Nobody Said It Was Easy
by Marisol Akyri
Summary: 2005 was an intriguing year. 2012 a sad one. 2014, simply extraordinary. From beginning to end Sherlock and Aliza certainly had what one would call a tumultuous, if not exhilarating relationship. A fortunate encounter that leads to a treasured friendship which inevitably becomes a true dance of the hearts. Why don't we take it back from the start?
1. Prologue

_Winter, 2013_

"So if it isn't any trouble at all, just pop down on that chair there, marked with the tape?"

A camera was set up on a tripod was about five feet away, the stand firmly gripped against the wooden floor. While the 'all-seeing' eye that is the red recording light was turned off for the moment, it didn't succeed in making any of the following four who would sit there any less weary. The only other person in the room stood tall besides the camera, copper hair slicked back in a style that didn't altogether match the rest of its body. A blue polo was buttoned up to the neck, his bottoms a dreadfully clashing brown cargo short. The pockets were stuffed with an assortment of recording devices and camera lenses, the only pocket not bursting or stained with the grease of the machine located on his right upper chest. A single notepad along with capped pen could be seen.

His voice betrayed this man's goal of confidence, for his speech was slightly rushed and far too jittery. The words echoed across the room, vacant with high ceilings that opened up to the studio roof above.

"This won't take more than fifteen minutes of your time. I promise! Don't worry we- I'm! I'm not going to hardball or anything like that!" A pale hand grabbed the back of a redhead, his eyes a now slight squint of nerves. "I'm sure you're aware of that though… wouldn't be here if you weren't, yeah?" The hand retreated back to the former position, camera still in position right across from a currently sitting Greg Lestrade.

"What is all this about then?" Lestrade was the first body to plant themselves upon the eerily cheerful floral-patterned armchair. With a grunt he settled down onto the cushion, his expression pained with a small, nervous smile. Always trying to bring ease to any situation he was.

With a click and a whir the camera sprung to life, the red eye now pulsing across from Lestrade's apprehensive face.

"I would appreciate i-if you could state your full name, occupation and uh, current age? For a start!"

The middle-aged man gave a slight cock of the head, brow furrowed at the request.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"I'm not in any trouble am I?"

John Watson's torso leaned just a bit more forward upon hearing the previous request, hands now softly clenching the faded yellow armrests. "I was under the assumption this was going to just be a brief snippet for some telly ad. About the clinic?"

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"M-Mrs. Hudson dearie. Amelia Hudson." The woman gave a small twitter. "No one ever asks for my first. Currently a landlady…" she shook her head softly, eyes downcast as her greying blonde hair rustled from the movement. The present situation was remembered. Her plum-colored blouse crinkled in movement as the aging woman fussed over the hemline. "…w-with vacancies." She turned her chin up just as abruptly at the camera, a small yet coy grin now plastered on her face. "You don't expect any woman to let on her age do you?"

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

Lips were puffed out as her eyes rolled, a small sigh exhaled. These first questions held no promise for an interesting conversation to follow. "I'm twenty-two. Twenty-three in March."

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"Now hold on there. I was told to be present for a job interview. At this very site!" Lestrade's instincts started to kick in, a niggle at the back of his neck alerting the man all wasn't how it should be. He was clad in his most expensive a charcoal suit, black tie held back with a metal clip. Impressions were extremely important for the unemployed. The material around his arms wrinkled as Lestrade gripped the arm rests quite sharply.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"Really though. I haven't done anything remotely illegal, "John's hands went up in surrender, eyebrows raised for he still had no idea what was going on here. "I mean of course my girlfriend may have told me showing up in front of a camera in this sweater should be public indecency…" John gave out a short chuckle, nerves on end. He tugged on the collar of the offending knit sweater, trying to bring brevity to the situation.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"Nothing to be alarmed of. We'll be moving right on schedule. Y-You just need to answer these few questions!" The redhead behind the camera tried to placate three out of the four who each took a turn in the chair that reacted negatively to the start. His hand rose up to the back of his head once again, determined to conceal his own apprehension on the situation. "Really nothing to be worried about. Honest!"

Although none of the four were present in the room at the same time, they all chose to react the same, leaning back into the cheerful, yellow armchair upon hearing the man's declaration.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"Greg Lestrade. Currently… unemployed." His face took on a solemn turn as Lestrade chose to stare forlornly at the floorboards. He appeared to not yet be over the circumstances regarding termination at his most previous line of work. "I'm forty-eight."

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"John Watson. Uh, Doctor John Watson. Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. My current age is uh, thirty-two." His gaze went vacant across the room, left hand now fiddling with the loose strands of the arm rest he had previously been gripping. "I haven't brought up my rank in ages…"

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"Oh I'm self-employed." The woman tilted her head at the camera, choosing not to focus her attention on the ginger that was so obviously trying to lock eyes upon hers. He had been brutally unsubtle the moment she walked into the room really. A mouth continuously opened and shut, hands were fidgeting. Trying to draw attention to the only feature that made him stand out, that silly red hair of his. She grinned right into the camera, acting as if she had no idea of the impression being left on the poor cameraman. Her legs and arms both crossed she allowed her lips to curl at the corners, aware the tan form-fitting jeans and black sweater present on her body now had an aesthetic advantage.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

The man at the camera nodded for each answer received, hand fumbling quickly to his upper right pocket for the notepad. As soon as he flicked it out he brushed through the spiral pages quickly, aware these recordings might soon take a turn for the unexpected as he settled on the next segment. At least on his interviewees' ends. Looking up within seconds he cleared his throat, trying to remain impassive for the next question.

"H-How long…

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"Well now there's something I haven't thought of in a while." Lestrade let out a short breath after the lie, now resting both his hands on the back of his skull. Thumbs were fiddling against his grey head as his expression gazed off into space. "I guess it would have been eight years if we were counting this one."

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"Two." John gave out an uncharacteristically curt response, his now hardened-eyes still focused on the far wall of the room. His mouth, characteristically, also didn't know when to stop for that statement was quickly amended. "At the end it felt like no less than ten. No matter what the dates might say." Aware his mouth had run off John quickly settled back into the chair, mouth drawn into a thin, firm line as if to dare his true thoughts to betray and rise from the surface again.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"O-oh my. If I can remember. It had to have been..." Mrs. Hudson scrunched her face in concentration, unaware it now cast her in quite the unflattering sight. "Four, five years? I think it was since the summer of 2008." The woman let her expression relax as she gave the camera a soft and thoughtful gaze. Memories were brought to the surface that she truly, fondly remembered. She gave her shoulders a little shake as she settled into the cushion. "He helped me with my husband you know..."

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"… Have I known Sherlock Holmes? My whole life."

The woman brought her small game with the cameraman to an end upon hearing the question, her face and voice now nothing less than serious. Her arms lowered but remained crossed, legs settling out in a more natural splayed position. She gave a fixed glare first to the man and then the camera, hesitance non-existent and confidence exuding. The corner of her mouth quirked up.

"The whole of my life that's worth remembering anyhow. I was fourteen."

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"And w-what was your relationship with him?"

Lestrade softly exhaled once again. Between everything that had happened throughout the years there really should have been a different answer than the one he gave. A career was ruined, unnecessary stress ran rampant, and even his marriage failed in part to the man in question. But the man in the suit couldn't say anything other than the truth, no matter how much time went by or what his therapist would say.

"A friend."

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"I was his landlady on paper. More of a housekeeper in truth when I look back and remember." Mrs. Hudson chuckled at that admission before allowing her gaze to return fondly at the ground. Her fingers were now twisted in the purple fabric at the base of her long skirt. "H-He was a good boy that one. Such a silly little head. You know he saved me once?" Mrs. Hudson let out a small sigh as she stretched her hands free, leaning back into the chair with her eyes up at the camera. "I always liked to think we were friends."

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"He was my best friend." The words came out in a clipped rush, well-rehearsed. John now chose to cross his arms tightly at his chest, slowly losing patience in the point of this all.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

"Ohhhh, I see how it is."

The once placid and coquettish appearance of the woman had all but vanished, her shoulders taut and stare now straight as if daring the man, or even camera to say otherwise. It was never anything new, and always the exact same questions asked. So infuriating!

"If this is heading where it seems to be let me stop you short right now," she broke the cross of her arms to raise a right hand, "I've heard it all before and know exactly what you're up to. You all try to come off unaware and wanting to understand. False sympathy and concern are common, yet your true motives are always there, glaring right into my face. Sometimes you trick us. Oftentimes you stalk us. Never do you truly leave us all alone. I'll admit it's been less bothersome since a year ago, but I can't possibly fathom what else you want. We all read the same story, are aware of the lies, know exactly what has happened because of it." The woman hissed the end of her sentence out, eyes stony at the now quivering redhead. "Maybe you lob a few softballs or dive right into the meat of what you want. You keep badgering us all, different times and places. All for the same goal. Whatever gets you and those idiotic readers," she waved her hand quickly at the offending lens. "Or viewers, off. And that is why my good sir I am done with all of this, for good."

Disappointed the woman rose as briskly as she first sat down, the heels of her knee-high boots clapping against the solid floorboards as she made her early exit. It was surprising really, how even now she still allowed herself to get dragged into this never-ending circle of questions which always, always, would give way to twisted replies regardless of the truth she would say. If the world truly cared they would let this sleeping dog lie, and stop prying into all their lives.

Yet just as predictably, her agitated but short temper soon ebbed down by the time she had made her way across the empty room. Since it was a studio of sorts there was a metal door left slightly ajar, the outside light of the hall dimly flittering into the dark warehouse of a room. Her hand on the doorknob the woman let out a breath of defeat, eyes rising up as her head turned back to the man not twenty feet away. She never really did appreciate her outbursts. Justifiable as they were it still was unsettling for all parties involved. She was just so _tired_ of everything. All of this.

Gathering her shoulders up the woman let her mouth curl up once again, voice raised to account for the distance. Seeing the red light still pulsating across the way she gave the man a curt nod. She would answer the question, the same way she always did in the end. The truth would never change.

"My name's Aliza..."

With that Aliza swiftly pulled open the door and walked out, letting it come to a rest on its own from the forward momentum. But not before popping her head back in, hand on the doorknob as she stood out in the hall addressing the redhead and the camera inside one last time.

"…And I loved Sherlock Holmes."

With a wink she let the door shut, the camera's red light now focusing on nothing but an empty, yellow floral armchair.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_


	2. Chapter 1

_Late Spring, 2005_

It had rained the night before, the numerous pot holes and cobble stone gaps that made up the pavement submerged in a murky, cloudy water. This night however seemed no less wet, the moisture in the air choosing to stand still in time as dank humidity rather than drops. The shop fronts and brick buildings receded into a drab grey overnight, the stains of age and wear excruciatingly evident once the sun went down and danger rose. Few people were out at this hour of midnight, the souls that chose to huddled in small groups along stone walls that may or may not have been heated from the inside. No one took notice of anything unusual, nor did any feel it within their obligation to speak or step up once opportunity presented itself.

It was here amongst the alleyways of Newham in East London that Aliza found herself suddenly breaking into a sprint.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

She had prepared herself for another chilled night, the fact it was a spring evening in mid-April obviously not being taken into account by the enigma that was Southern British weather. The night prior Aliza found herself lucky, seeking refuge underneath a rusty stairwell in some unmarked alley. She was able to pile up the few dispersed trash bins and line the tops with a segment of cardboard she had found perfect for her height (five feet-three inches).

The solid metal that made up the landing and steps proved an excellent roof, the narrow alley walls a final and welcome addition to her temporary "house". She had thrust her cracked leather and tan knapsack under her head, positioned the inside contents carefully for comfort, and chose to call it a night. She always did sleep much more peacefully in the rain, no matter how much she claimed to hate it and the bother it brought.

Yet that was last night, and for the life that was Aliza's rarely should one get accustomed to a single place for far too long. In the early, sunlit hours of the morning a quick escape was made before any curious eye could start to suspect why a fourteen year old girl was in fact, for all intents and purposes, living as a hobo. She stretched her lanky arms with an open yawn as she slipped on the well-worn black converse shoes. The heels were run down as the shoelaces remained untouched, in a petrified ashen knot. Lugging her knapsack over a shoulder and running fingers through a thoroughly tangled mass of dark brown curls, Aliza rejoined the beginnings of morning hustle as shopkeepers swept up their front porches and walkers made the early morning commute to their place of work.

As she walked past various blocks occasional gazes were swept over the store fronts she passed. She couldn't help but give in to her own mind's temptations, eying the various outfits and pastries with a true sense of forlorn. She hated allowing her mind to wander over such nothings, since it always ended up making her feel exactly the opposite of what she strived for. Always letting herself get lost in the romanticisms of a situation, that was Aliza. It didn't help that she was in London, a city and culture that had made up the backbone of the numerous stories she had read in the first place to influence her thoughts.

Slowing her steps she came to the window and sign of what seemed to be a second-hand pawn shop of sorts. Aliza gave a small smile, mossy eyes scanning over the various odds and ends that were piled up behind the thing glass. Her mind was settling in to wander.

_Now if this was a story, I would be compelled to take a step inside. And find a mysterious wonder which would lead me on a grand adventure.__  
_  
Aliza glanced over at the door, which was now conveniently opened ajar by the shopkeeper. She chose to follow through, the chime of the bell echoing against the wooden beams in the ceiling and floor. Upon entering Aliza's grin grew wider, shelves upon shelves in the tiny shop nearly groaning under the combined weight of all the eccentricities. No set order was evident; dusty tomes rested alongside moth-worn fabrics of every pattern and color. Cracked snow globes boasting scenes of starry winters, playful beaches, and fantastical creatures all gave off a glitter as a plethora of crystal wind chimes reflected the dusty light from the outside. Furniture of all brands and materials were kept up against the walls, bookshelves instead housing antique stationary and tarnished pieces of jewelry made up the corners.

In the very middle of the shop, twenty feet from the door stood a man leaning against his glass counter. He was slightly overweight, the pudge of youth never having vanished the areas around his cheeks and midsection. His blonde mottled hair rested limp against his face, where a bulbous nose slightly twisted from past breaks made up the center. Trembling lips and squinty navy eyes completed his appearance, as the man clasped his hands at excitement for the first customer of the day.

"Good morning my dear! Fancy a sweet?" He gestured to a wide, stained glass bowl at his left, where a few colorfully wrapped mints rested at the bottom.

Drawing her attention to the sudden voice Aliza kept her small smile, taking a few steps up to the counter. She gave a nod and muttered a thanks, reaching out for a striped blue wrapped confection. Sliding it into the right pocket of her olive trousers, Aliza looked down at the counter below with a short gasp.

At this moment a few more bodies walked into the shop, a middle-aged couple and a single man now scattered throughout the tiny shop.

What had taken Aliza's attention was in fact the brilliance in display of the pure gems below the glass. Shining brightly unlike their tarnished cousins in the bookshelves, sapphires, rubies, and other colorful stones made their home atop plush velvet pillows. Never before had she seen such riches together, for these pieces seemed to resonate with a much stronger brilliance than any rings or earrings one could have seen in a department store. They seemed in fact, _alive_.

Noticing her preoccupation with the display the shopkeeper looked up at the other prospective customers who had entered. The grey-haired couple was standing across an oaken table, nearing a century old. It seemed the wife very much wanted a new piece for the dining room, no matter how much her husband seemed to be shaking his head or casting quick glances to any other, cheaper, table but the current one.

Sweeping his head to the left the man behind the counter only saw the back of a figure hunched forward in a forest-green overcoat, who appeared to be flipping through the pages of assorted books haphazardly. The man in the coat seemed to give a brief shake to every other book he came across by the binding, as if testing their weight. Irritation ticked behind the blonde man's brow, at the treatment of his precious wares. Compared to the well to do couple at the table this man looked no more impressive than any street goer, his coat quite aged over creased and wrinkled black jeans and shoes.

Aliza straightened up once she caught up with herself, the shopkeeper switching his attention back to her at once. With a sweet smile he brought his hand down to the counter, knowing the girl's eyes would follow. "Now here my dear is a piece that is worth a second-look. Craftsmanship unparalleled don't you agree?" At his statement Aliza followed, her eyes coming across an emerald, hair barrette?

"I know what you're thinking my dear. Let me assure you. Any old gem can find itself tied to a chain or adorning a lady's ears. It is only those of a, special caliber, that find their place amongst such pieces as intimate as combs or hair clips."

_If this was a story, it would probably have belonged to a princess. Stolen in the dead of night from a much cherished jewelry box! She wants it back, and would reward the one who returns it quite handsomely.__  
_  
Lost in her thoughts the man's grin seemed only to grow, his hands reaching underneath the counter and grabbing the clip less carefully than one would expect. He brought it in front of Aliza's face, making sure every twinkle and shade of the piece could be noted. It was a silver inlay, polished to seem almost white. The green gems were scattered across the front as a border, with the largest and deepest in color of the stones located directly on what would be the front of the clip. Aliza loved it.

"You seem to be quite enraptured my dear. Almost as if it was created with just you in mind. Your eyes shine just as brightly."

Giving the man a quick glance up Aliza looked around the shop just as quickly. There was no reason to be weary just yet. Anyone would try to sweet talk their way into a sale. Still though, seeing three others in the store calmed Aliza's inkling of fear somewhat. No one would try anything with witness around.

"M-May I then?"

The man behind the counter raised his hands to the front of her head, carefully attaching the ornament. While it appeared to at first be lost amongst the loose curls of her matted hair, with a few touch up's of her own Aliza was able to properly attach and admire the clip. The man slid a mirror out of seemingly nowhere and held it up for the girl to admire. "Now there's a pretty picture wouldn't you say? As I figured, made for you! Perhaps you were a fine lady in a past life that had one in every color?"

Knowing he had struck out on the girl's love of fantasy (any ordinary fourteen year old who stared longingly into gems would have), the man behind the counter placed the mirror down with a clap as he clasped his own hands together. "My dear you must buy this piece!"

As if on cue Aliza's absorption with the mirror faded, her grin turned down as she made move to return the clip from her locks. The man had expected such an answer, and was grinning himself in earnest.

"I couldn't. Couldn't possibly. Not the richest one here as you could probably tell," Aliza gestured down to her much-worn clothes, the bleach-stained purple tee and black jacket with just a few of its buttons missing especially so. "Thank you for the candy though..."

"Nonsense! I won't hear anymore! You must take this. A gift from me." At once the man made to stop Aliza's hands from continuing their journey upwards, readjusting the clip so it was once again firmly planted. "This has been laying around for ages my dear. None have complimented its beauty as much as yours."

Aliza made to cock her head slightly, confusion across her face. This has to have been worth a lot. Emeralds for gosh's sake! She was a little perturbed to say the least. "Now now my dear. Just like a _story_... wouldn't you say?" At that statement he brought his face much closer to her own, paying no heed to her small start at the sudden proximity. He wanted to see the gears work through her head, for her mind to take his words with haste, and hold on to them tightly. She needed to have this clip. And Aliza did in fact give a small nod. And with that the man gestured out beyond to the door, the conversation over. "Good morning!"

Breath taken, Aliza stumbled back, bowing her head just slightly in thanks. "I'll find a way to repay you. I promise! This is surely the nicest thing anyone has given me!" She ran her hand endearingly over the piece, a rare and wide smile now encroaching over all her features. To think she would walk out with such a treasure!

_Just like in The Little Princess. The gifts from nowhere. I need to try my luck at a bakery next. Maybe they need an extra pair of hands? Or I could hitch my way back to downtown? It's only a__Thursday__but probably some tourists still milling about... This hair piece would bring better attention too. I'm sure of it!__  
_  
"Oh, sorry."

Her thoughts trailed off as she suddenly collided with a firm wall, a wall that turned into a very lanky, bony man once she turned her head. Seeing as he didn't choose to move or utter any word of pardon she continued to tilt her gaze up to meet his eyes. Unaware of the current comical position of her head at the moment.

She was met with two uncommonly tiny pupils that seemed to be drowning in uncommonly clear irises. A really weird color at that.

_Turquoise? Sea-foam? They look like they want to be blue but totally have that whole green-vibe thing going on._

Her inner musings shut off once those eyes blinked, Aliza straightening her frame back up and rubbing her previously contorted neck. "Sorry about that there. I let my mind wander much too easily," she gave a small chuckle. "Terrible habit I know."

"Mm. Yes. For the vast majority of the population it tends to be."

Aliza couldn't help but scrunch her eyebrows up at this admission. Not the small noise of confirmation most would give, nor the late sorry for you know, bumping back into her that she had already said on her end. No, this was definitely not the response she had expected. And hey! Wasn't that an insult as well?

As if suddenly bored the man made a step closer to Aliza, eyes cast down on the barrette that just been clipped down a couple minutes before. She stifled a small squeak of surprise, personal boundaries obviously not well managed on his part. He appeared to sweep over her with an almost steadfast determination, bottom to top in what felt like an impromptu x-Ray really. As his eyes settled on the hair clip she didn't succeed as well this time in surpassing a shudder. Anyone would feel naked after that.

Without another word the man lifted a single finger out towards the hair piece, finally approaching slow as if not to scare her off. Nothing was uttered on Aliza's end as the man tapped the front and largest emerald with an awfully even and manicured nail, even for a man. His stare never faltered, so intent on the barrette Aliza felt as if the metal was slowly smoldering above her hair.

As if confirming a suspicion the man gave a small nod, suddenly sweeping to the side to allow Aliza a clear berth to the door she had been attempting to leave through before. But not before a low "Good morning," uttered by the very man in question.

Aliza looked quickly back to the counter, surprised to see the man there before was now well-invested in an animated conversation with the middle-aged couple still standing in the right corner of the room. It appeared no one had taken any special notice of the odd exchange other than the two participants. Very well.

With a brief nod to the man and a stare of her own fixated to his patched, forest-green jacket Aliza pushed open the door, a bell tingling out as she made her way right down the block. Back to her original destination before the truly mysterious happenings inside the shop had transpired.

_-0-0-0-0-0-_

An eventful morning gave way to a relatively boring afternoon spent rereading old favorites at the library, which now as we catch back up with Aliza had transformed into a very dangerous, if not life-changing, night.

She had finally left the small bakery she did in fact manage to find, crust of a roll very much appreciated in a scrunched fist. In her knapsack Aliza does manage to keep a small emergency supply of wrapped and flip-can goods in case the pickings for a good few days were weak and money was hard to come by. Never turn down a free offer of anything consumable though, that much was law.

This suddenly brought back to her attention the blue-wrapped candy she was given along with the hair clip, something Aliza immediately ran her free fingers lovingly over in result. Bringing that hand down to her right zipper pocket where the treat made home a sudden metallic clang broke through the air. Candy forgotten and thoughts snapped back to the present Aliza swiftly rotated around to the alley next to the bakery, bread still clutched in her hand.

Staring into the darkness eventually brought forth a large figure from the depths, a man with no neck and very big shoulders. Upon stepping out onto the sidewalk the man fixated his glare at Aliza, the streetlight overhead providing him with all the confirmation needed. At once he broke out charging at the girl, who dropped her bread and snapped away with speed not a moment too late.

She found her footsteps echoing with a slam as she ran, trying to find her way back to a main street and avoid the alleyways that would surely spell disaster. While the man was of a much larger frame and weight of the teenager he was currently pursuing, he evidently did have well-conditioned stamina on his side. For all the girl's sudden speed, she would surely tire out before the man. Which was why with a sinister grin he busted forward to her right, making sure to cut off her path as Aliza had no choice but to let herself be corralled into a dead end, discarded pallets and metal trash bins her only company.

She backed up quickly to the brick wall behind, eyes only seeing the man making slow steps now up to her. She hesitantly reached out to the bricks up against her back, finding them all smooth and in place to cancel out climbing to safety. With a mental curse Aliza tried to inch her way to the right, a stack of wooden pallets perhaps allowing her some leverage.

_I could throw kick these out his way, maybe surprise him? I know if I catch him off guard I could find a way past him. Slide under his arms? The ground's still wet from last night..._

Aliza slowly carefully shifted her gaze to the pavement below. The alley was about ten feet wide, if that. She could use her frame to an advantage. He can't turn as easily.

Lost in her attempt at an escape plan Aliza took no notice of her pursuer stopping short and to the left, right hand reaching behind what would have been the waistband of his trousers, located underneath a heavy grey trench coat. Seeing her mind wander off in such a terrible time brought his mouth to curve in a sinister grin, thumb brushing over his weapons of choice. The handle was taut leather, braided into itself with the upmost care.

Just as he was to reveal his surprise with a thundering crack, preferably between this stupid girl's vacant expression, all froze still.

Aliza jumped back on the pallets, causing the precarious pile to shift and jumble under her sudden weight. She found her chest heaving fast, the adrenaline running down as she struggled to bring her mind clear. Of course she would have chosen to have her mind run away at the worst possible time.

Bringing two fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose and keep her traitorous mind in the moment she squinted with a grimace at an assaulting white light coming from the mouth of the alley.

The thug instantly turned heel at the intruder, bringing the whip he was meant to surprise the girl with to a snap on the ground afore him. "I'd get out if ya know what's good for ya."

Ignoring the growls of the man with a whip the light source seemed to have been coming closer, a lanky figure slowly growing more evident.

"Why her?"

"Sorry mate?"

Aliza was watching the two with rapt interest. This could be her chance! She just has to sprint by before the whip could... lash her. Aliza's stomach turned at the thought of what a leather snake with the force of an awfully large man behind it could do. She slowly tried to lean herself to the left, away from the right hand brandishing a whip and in a direction she was pretty sure led to a main street once one could break out to the sidewalk.

The light stayed fixated on the man with a whip, but the baritone voice directed itself to her.

"I'd stay there if I were you. Moving to the left of a whip only allows him with more leverage to gather force in a dominant hand and space. Seeing as how the biceps in his right arm are noticeably larger underneath the material of his coat, judging by the wrinkles and stretched condition of the fabric, I would say he is solely dominant and skilled in his right hand. Taking the coil length into account, it could easily reach past wall to wall of this alley, rendering any attempt to outrun well... useless."

Furious her plan of escape had just been shattered by a very fast-talking man, Aliza tried to send as intense a glare across the dimly lit space as she could. She stayed where she did however, up against the wall.

The thug leered down at the man, easily a good five inches over the man's six foot frame. He would be easy enough to take care of.

"I said why her. And Diane Livingston. Alice Johnson? Raquel Mattius?" A fire blazed up into the shorter man's eyes, trying to search the larger for an answer. "They were all targeted within two days of each other at around the same time. They all went to the same shop and left with a piece of jewelry. And were then killed their respective nights. _Why_?"

Aliza reached up to touch the hair piece, her throat dry.

The thug gave only a smirk. The weaker ones always did try to talk their way out of anything. "Wouldn't ya like to know? I'm afraid you'd have to take it up with my employer though." He flexed his grip on the whip, ready to subdue this fool and move on to the girl behind him. He raised his arm up in but a second, however he paused in confusion as soon as the stick of a man spoke again.

"Oh so there is a connection? Interesting."

Realizing in error what he had just revealed the man let out a roar, and like a beast brought his snake arm violently fast to reach the chest across from him.

Aliza had seen the exchange, shaking now as the smaller man seemed to only be digging himself deeper into his own hole. Why didn't he run? Or at least help find a way to take this larger man down. She could help if he started!

Her mind froze as the guttural yell vibrated against the bricks, a premature shriek springing up from her lips for the light-wielding man's sake. Contact was inevitable.

Until of course a single shot blasted out to dwarf the man's yell, the whip stopping just short of impact. What had been gripped so tightly before now fell swiftly through his fingers, his torso stumbling back as his legs staggered back. And then fell to the ground. Aliza took this instant to continue her original plan and spring to the left, eager to get away from this insanity.

She was swiftly stopped by the arm not holding what she could now see was a flashlight, thrust across her path to keep her at bay. Irritation bubbled up once again in an already on edge mind, Aliza wanting nothing more than to find some other stairwell or stoop far away from these streets tonight. "Could you _let_ me go?"

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!"

The girl seemed to jump back five feet at the sudden yell. Fear receding only slightly from her face as she looked towards the man who was not addressing her.

_Wait that jacket.__  
_  
"Why did we save your life then?" The voice sounded quite exasperated. This didn't seem to be an isolated run-in between the two. "Oh I don't know. Maybe because a mad man with a whip was going to slice you into next week?"

The flurry of voices and noise from outside the alley finally registered, Aliza realizing there were _cops_. A jolt of fear rang through her.

_Not good. Not good.__  
_  
"Stupid! Stupid!" The man belonging to the voice twirled around, arms slashing air as he kicked the still body next to both him and Aliza.

Aliza glanced sharply at the man in the jacket. He wasn't acting very grateful for someone who wasn't going to die tonight. Or at least get seriously whiplashed into next week. "You could at least say thank y-"

The voice from the outside suddenly came closer, stopping Aliza short, a man with greying-brown hair in a suit jacket accompanied by a younger cop who bristled in pride at his aim.

Aliza backed up as they progressed, shielding herself behind the forest-green jacketed man who had just given the outburst. Wait forest green jacket. And those eyes. The man was now facing her, and you would have to be blind to not notice his eyes.

_And his voice. That guy!__  
_  
"Sherlock you want to spend another night at the station? Tampering evidence and all..." Lestrade shifted the flashlight in his hands with a sigh. No other Detective Inspector in all of London should have to deal with Sherlock Holmes. Least of all a newly promoted one.

The man in the jacket stopped kicking the body, catching composure. However his back was still facing the police pair. He brought his gaze to a shocked Aliza, smirk rising up on his face and arms now crossed. "And arrest the man who saved this girl's life? With an attention-span that short she probably wouldn't have even notice the final blow."

She felt a tic stab the space behind her eyes, her brow flattening at his insult. Sure she let her mind wander a tad too much, but it was all for good! She was trying to take an active interest in finding a way out. Unlike Mister Jacket over here, thinking the whip was just going to miss him probably. That color really didn't go well with him either. And he never said sorry for bumping into her at the shop either!

So with as much grace as Aliza could muster she smiled sweetly at the swiftly-becoming infuriating man, hands clasped behind her back. "Sherlock?" The name left a funny sensation on her tongue. It sounded like Victorian garble not unlike the names in the books she read. No one was really called that in this day and age, were they?

The man called Sherlock kneeled down after his comment at the girl, eyeing the whip left discarded on the ground with much interest, taking in specific features of the weapon and its former owner as quickly as he could. But of course the girl had to speak and throw his concentration. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone and think?

"What?!"

Aliza's grin grew wider and even more sickeningly sweet, leaning back now on the balls of her feet. She was quite happy she had managed to succeed in pushing this man's buttons as he had her own.

"Be a dear and shut up."

* * *

And chapter 1 complete! Thank you for reading my dears. I have just started winter break so plan to push out an update every other day. Long live the greatness that is Sherlock! Have a nice day : D


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